The Cherrymon That Casts No Shadow
by Hadou Ken 24
Summary: The second part of the Yin/Yang Trilogy, which was started by The Yin and Yang of Digimon and Tamer. Rika has been kidnapped! Her only hope lies in Roland and Renamon, who have traveled to the Digital World in search of her. Or is there other hope, as wel
1. Prelude

Author's Note: This story is the second part of the Yin/Yang trilogy, which   
was begun in "The Yin and Yang of Digimon and Tamer." While one does not have   
to read that story to enjoy this, it is quite good, and will increase   
your understanding of certain elements in this fanfic, namely, the character   
of Roland and references to his history. Besides, it's just a good read.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, and I do not claim to own Digimon. I do own   
any original elements in this fanfic, including, but not limited to: the character   
of Roland, his actions, the actions of various other characters, and any other   
original characters or actions. These may not be used without my permission,   
written or otherwise. I still like good cheese. It's very tasty.  
  
  
  
  
Several rows of children of varying ages struck at the air with synchronized   
punches. Nearby, on a park bench, stood a placard reading, "FREE MARTIAL ARTS   
LESSONS: 4-5 PM WEEKDAYS." Below that it said "No uniform necessary."  
  
Their sensei, a fifteen-year-old boy named Roland with grey-green eyes so   
startling you hardly noticed other features like hair color, mentally   
counted the punches.  
  
"Last ten. Faster now! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,   
TEN!  
  
"Feet together, bow." Twenty or thirty heads bobbed toward him as he bowed   
in return. "Dismissed."  
  
The group dissolved into a giggling boys and girls, all heading in different   
directions to find their mothers, no doubt watching their siblings at one of   
the nearby playgrounds.  
  
Roland watched them with pride. His little pupils were coming along faster   
than he could have expected in the six months his "dojo" had been active.  
  
He waited a few minutes to see if one of them had any questions or needed   
help with a technique. Usually he had two or three munchkins wanting help with   
this kick or that combination, but today there were none.  
  
When he was sure there was no one who needed help, he began a slow Tai Chi   
Chuan form. It always helped provide him with energy to replace that expended   
while dealing with the children, the youngest of whom was only five years old.   
  
Somewhere between "Single Whip" and "Wild Horse Spreads Mane," five or six   
older teenagers with white karate uniforms and black belts of varying degrees   
came forward. Politely, they stood silently out of the way and allowed him to   
finish the form.  
  
Roland completed the last pattern in the set. He stood silently, eyes closed,   
for a moment before stepping forward to the tallest and oldest of the six.  
  
"Yes?" he asked.  
  
"We are the top students of some of the local dojos. Our senseis have instructed   
us to ask you to cease your activities."  
  
"Indeed. Did they tell you why?" A dangerous glint came into Roland's eyes.  
  
"Yes. They feel that it is unwise for one so young as yourself to be teaching   
the martial arts, especially to those so impressionable, or injure-able, as   
children."  
  
Roland nodded slowly. "I see. You may tell your sensei that he may put those   
fears to rest. I have had no injuries or accidents in the entire six months I   
have been teaching here."  
  
The black belt's eyebrows went up. Who was this kid? He wasn't even phased by   
the presence of six experienced martial artists. He was either very brave,   
or very stupid.  
  
"I will not tell him. He also instructed me that if you do not shut down  
immediately, we are to force you to shut down. Tsuyoshi, get the sign."  
  
One of the younger black belts, a mere first degree, walked over to the bench   
and systematically ripped apart the placard. A deep growl began in Roland's   
throat.  
  
"I will make another sign," said Roland very slowly and deliberately.  
  
"Very well." The leader nodded to his crew, who fanned out to surround Roland.   
  
Roland stepped back warily. He had three options: run, fight, or intimidate   
the heck out of them. If he ran, they would chase him down and he would be   
forced to stop teaching, and there was only one way he could intimidate them,   
and that choice was not an option. He had to fight. Roland quickly evaluated   
his would-be assailants.  
  
It looked like most of them were karate students, probably Shotokan style.   
One of them, though, wore the patch of a local jujitsu dojo, and still another   
wore a hakama, or a kind of black, baggy pair of pants worn only by practicioners   
of kendo or the unarmed art of aikido. What was an aikido student doing here?   
he wondered; aikido was probably the most peaceful martial art in the world,   
next to Tai Chi Chuan.  
  
The bellicose black belts took fighting stances. Roland's eyes shifted back   
and forth as he tried to watch all of them at once.  
  
"You guys are all black belts, right?"  
  
"Duh."  
  
"You are about to attack me, right?"  
  
"Duh."  
  
"If I ran, you would chase me down, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Probably. Why?"  
  
"Just making sure I'm in a legally sound position."  
  
"Do you know who I am? I'm Choji Takahashi's top student. I got twenty trophies   
in one year! I wouldn't be worried about legalities, if I were you."  
  
"Too bad this isn't a tournament."  
  
Roland caught some motion out of the corner of his eye. A punch came in toward   
his temple. He ducked and struck out with his palm just as the fist retreated,   
pushing the owner of the fist back three feet. A kick came in on his left and   
sidestepped, smashing the other leg with his foot and knocking the kicker to   
the ground.  
  
Roland flowed like a burbling stream. An attack would come, he blocked or   
evaded, and returned the attack as its energy was expended, sending the   
attacker tumbling. Three minutes later, the last white-clad figure limped out   
of sight.  
  
Roland stood silently. "How long were you watching?" he said to a tree.  
  
Renamon dropped down from its branches. "Long enough. Good job, there."  
  
"Thank you. I had to hold back a bit, though."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Roland sat down heavily on the Wongs' couch. For a moment, he sat in silence,   
thinking very deeply about things in general.  
  
Henry stepped into the room. Noticing Roland's dour mood, he asked, "Hey,   
what's wrong?"  
  
Roland blinked, his concentration interrupted. "Have you ever heard of Choji   
Takahashi?"  
  
Henry paused. "Yeah. My sensei used to know him. They trained under the same   
master, but they had a falling out. Why?"  
  
"A bunch of black belts came and tried to beat me up earlier today after my   
class. They said they were the top students of various dojos around and they   
didn't want me teaching my class anymore. They were led by a student of Choji   
Takahashi."  
  
"Yeah, Renamon told me about that."  
  
Henry took a few steps toward the kitchen, but stopped when he looked at   
Roland's face again. "That's not all, is it?"  
  
Roland shook his head and sighed. "No. It's about my parents. It's been a year   
since we returned from the digital world and we still haven't found them. I   
must have hired five different private detectives. Besides, I don't know if   
they'd take me back, not with. . ." His voice trailed off, the last part   
unspoken.  
  
It started about a year and a half earlier. He was not only the first Tamer   
in America, but also the North American champion of digimon cards. He was   
invited to Tokyo for an international tournament, but never got to play. The   
night before, his digimon Kijutsumon had tried to merge with Roland to give   
him the edge in a match, but it failed. Roland ended up sucking in most of   
Kijutsumon's data. He gained the power to control the four elements, Earth,   
Water, Wind, and Fire, as well as Kijutsumon's legs, but lost Kijutsumon   
himself.  
  
Roland was sucked into the Juggernaut program, but was not killed because he   
was still part human. Instead, he spent several months in the digital world,   
where he met Rika, Kazu, and Kenta. Shortly after, he found what was left of   
Kijutsumon, who had swallowed a virus and become DarkKijutsumon. Roland was   
forced to fight Kijutsumon. He only won that battle because he was both   
digimon and Tamer, thus releasing the fifth and most powerful   
element, Ether. His new control of Ether also allowed him to change between   
digimon and human forms at will. Now, he was looking for his parents, staying   
with the Wongs in the interim. He just hoped his parents would be able to   
accept his new freakishness. After all, even when he was in his human   
form, he had that digivice embedded in his left arm.  
  
A loud telephone ring startled Roland out of his reverie. Henry picked it up.   
  
"Hello?. . . . What!?. . . Of course, we'll be there right away!" Roland looked   
back at Henry. Something was wrong; his face was rapidly losing all color.  
  
"Roland, that was Renamon. Rika's been kidnapped!" 


	2. Tears

Renamon stood looking out at the bright city lights. Somewhere, a siren wailed   
its alarm through the streets. Cars honked, engines roared, people yelled. Above,   
two or three stars poked through the jealous brightness of the city's glory.   
Rika was out there, somewhere. Renamon needed to help, but didn't know where   
to start.  
  
"Rika," whispered Renamon, a tear running down her face.  
  
Roland appeared next to her in his digimon form, similar to Renamon, but more   
of a grey wolf than a yellow fox.  
  
"I talked to the police," he said.  
  
"I know."  
  
Roland sighed. "They don't have any clues yet. They searched her room. No signs   
of struggle, no footprints, the window wasn't forced, nothing. They even   
checked for fingerprints. In fact, the only evidence for it being a kidnapping   
at all is the note, and the fact she didn't pack up any clothes. They say she   
could have just written the note herself."  
  
"She didn't run away." Renamon was shaking.  
  
Roland nodded. This was hard on all of them, but Renamon especially. He stepped   
closer to her.  
  
"I went over the house myself, for scent, after the police left. It was too   
muddled to tell for sure, but someone was in that room. I couldn't follow the   
scent, though."  
  
Renamon sat down on the building's roof. "Is there no hope, then?"  
  
Roland sat down next to Renamon. "No, there's hope. Her digivice wasn't in   
her room. If she has it with her, then Mr. Wong says he can make a device that   
can track its output. If she is within a hundred miles, we'll be able to find   
her."  
  
Renamon nodded that she understood. It was slim hope indeed. Even if Rika didn't   
lose it somehow, it was unlikely that the kidnappers would let her keep it,   
unless she hid the digivice. Every passing moment lessened the chance that   
they would be able to find Rika.  
  
Roland stood up and turned to leave. "I need to get back. Mr. Wong will need   
my digivice to help make the machine."  
  
"No, please stay," said Renamon, also standing back up, "Henry can help his   
father. I don't want to be alone tonight. Please."  
  
Roland stopped, then nodded. "All right." He remembered the night he lost   
Kijutsumon. He wished someone had comforted him, then.  
  
Together, they watched the city in its noisy, nervous, fitful sleep.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The next afternoon. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and in the   
distance, children were laughing and playing. Oblivious to the cheeriness of   
the day, several boys and a girl, most about twelve years of age, were locked   
in serious discussion.  
  
Henry and Roland took turns explaining things to the other Tamers.  
  
". . . digivice was missing from her room," continued Henry, "My father thinks   
he can make a machine to track it. If it is within a hundred miles, we should   
be able to find it."  
  
Jeri looked down at the grass, concern written across her face. "What if she   
doesn't have it, or they take it. What then?"  
  
"Yeah," said Takato next to her, "Don't we have any other clues?"  
  
Henry nodded at Roland, who spoke up. "Last night after the police left, I   
went sniffing about. The scent was muddled by all the activity, but I think   
there might have been a digimon in there. I wasn't sure at first, but after   
talking it over with Renamon, we agreed someone needed to go the the digital   
world on an information-gathering mission."  
  
"Hey, cool," said Kazu, "can I come, too? I'd love to go back there, now that   
the devas are gone."  
  
Roland shook his head. "Sorry, no. Only Renamon and I will go. Pure humans are   
just too slow, and we'll have to really move if we get in trouble. Besides,   
we know the digital world better than anyone else."  
  
Kazu grumbled a bit, but didn't protest too much; it did make sense.  
  
"All right, then," said Henry, "If no one else has anything to say, we'd better   
break up this meeting." He looked over to the large pond, where all the digimon   
but Renamon were having a splash fight. Surpisingly enough, Terriermon was   
winning. He was using his ears to sort of perform a double-splash move, which   
Takato agreed was brilliant.  
  
Roland called Renamon over. "Come one," he said, "We've got to go digital." 


	3. The Search Begins

Renamon lightly landed on her feet, followed a few moments after by Roland in   
his lupine form. They looked around at the grassy plains that spread to the   
horizon. They had just arrived from the real world.  
  
"Where to?" asked Renamon, "I'm unfamiliar with this part of the Digital World."  
  
Roland looked around for a moment before spotting a small black dot in the   
distance. "There. I think I know that village."  
  
As if someone had fired the starting gun, they shot forward at full speed   
toward the first stop on a long journey.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
They slowed to a walk as they came to the small village of thatched huts.   
Roland signaled to stop.  
  
He said, "They know we're here already."  
  
Sure enough, several reptilian noses poked themselves out of small doors. One   
or two Agumon stepped out and looked suspiciously at the pair. Then three more   
came out, then four, and soon there was a rush of Agumon like the bursting of   
a sturdy, tall dam onto the plains surrounding the small village.  
  
"They built tunnels underground," he whispered to Renamon when he noticed her   
shock at the massive number of digimon, "The huts are just for show."  
  
Renamon couldn't get a good reading of the group's mood as a whole. Some   
Agumon looked happy that there were visitors, some were visibly frightened, and   
some looked like they were about to attack.  
  
"We can't fight this many," she whispered back to Roland.  
  
He didn't respond to her, but spoke loudly to the Agumon. "Bring forth your   
elder."  
  
A current of surprise ran through the mass of Agumon. The rustling leave sound   
of whispers were blown about by a sense of questioning wonder. Who was this   
strange digimon, that he knew about their elder?  
  
The crowd parted to make way for an honor guard decorated with red sashes.   
On their shoulders they carried the most wizened, oldest digimon they had ever   
seen, seated in an ancient throne.  
  
The strong, young guards-digimon carefully lowered the seat to the ground. The   
decrepit Agumon rearranged carefully rearranged himself upon the cushions.   
Blinking with old bleary eyes, he examined them with a wisdom born of long   
experience.  
  
Roland dropped to a knee and bowed his head, gesturing to Renamon to do the   
same. "I bring you greetings on behalf of the human Tamers, Old One."  
  
The Agumon's eyes went misty for a moment as he reached back through time to   
dredge up a memory of this strange creature.  
  
Finally he said, "Ah, yes. Roland. You look different now than when you helped   
us fight off the herd of Monochromon, but I recall the same voice and a similar   
manner. Greetings, and well met."  
  
"You did not need to be carried the last time I was here."  
  
The feeble digimon sighed, a sound like the rustling of dry leaves. "You have   
struck upon my greatest shame: that I grow old and cannot lead my tribe as I   
once was able. But I am not so old that I am totally blind. Who is this   
stranger you have brought with you?" The tone sounded merely inquisitive, but   
something about it set Renamon's stomach churning with fear.  
  
Roland stood. "She is Renamon, a Tamer's partner, and as courageous a digimon   
as I have ever met."  
  
Another Agumon stepped forward and whispered something in the elder's ear. He  
was not as old as he leader, but old enough to have gained considerable respect   
by the other digimon.  
  
"Quite so," murmured the enthroned Agumon, who turned his head back toward   
Roland, saying, "While I would gladly accept your word for her bravery, the   
council would not agree to an untested stranger in our midst. Therefore, she   
must face the Challenge."  
  
Renamon stood and turned her head to look up at Roland, her eyes full of   
questioning. Roland shook his head, then mouthed, You'll do fine.  
  
The Agumon leader waved his hand at the guards, who quickly snapped to attention.   
  
"Bring forth our greatest warrior, O Guardians," intoned the old digimon   
ritually, "Bring forth our greatest hope."  
  
The guards bowed and spoke in unison. "We shall seek our greatest warrior, O   
King, we shall seek our greatest hope."  
  
Somewhere in the crowd a voice rang out. "I am the greatest warrior, King, I   
am the greatest hope." A bubble in the masses formed around the voice as it   
pulled apart to let the digimon through.  
  
Renamon watched curiously. Why was there this long ritual for something as   
simple as a challenge, and who was the champion of the Agumon tribe? She could   
not see him through the crowd.  
  
The digimon stepped forward into view. Renamon gaped at it. It was easily the   
most massive Agumon she had ever seen! Its bony head came all the way up to   
her chest, and its hard, corded muscles rippled as it moved. A slow, plodding   
step spoke of a martial readiness that was cautious, but prepared to move quick   
as lightning. It snorted at her as it glared across ridged nostrils.  
  
"Our greatest warrior has come forth," the old digimon said, "our greatest   
hope has been found." He turned his tired head back to the guards. "Prepare   
for us the battle ground, the place of strife and pain."  
  
The guards quickly and efficiently cleared an oval area about a football   
field long of the all digimon. The giant Agumon plodded to one end and stood   
ready.  
  
The Agumon elder turned back to Renamon. "Stranger to the tribe, you are   
Challenged to a battle only to end in submission. Do you accept?"  
  
Catching Roland's slight nod, she spoke a single word. "Yes."  
  
She passed through the crowd to the other end of the oval. Her tail swished   
in nervous anticipation. Renamon prepared to tense muscles that had not been   
vigorously exercised in nearly a year.  
  
In unison the four guards shouted, "Let it begin!"  
  
Renamon stepped slowly to seek more room in the middle. The Agumon stood stock   
still, watching her through narrow eyes.  
  
Renamon gulped. She hadn't had a fight for an entire year, and this guy was   
obviously very experienced. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She blinked.  
  
Sensing a momentary faltering in Renamon's defense, the Agumon rushed forward,   
bone-white claws gouging up turf as he pounded the ground.  
  
Only Renamon's reflexes saved her. When the Agumon was right on top of her, she   
dropped onto her back and tossed him head over heels.  
  
Roland watched in concerned silence. She isn't as fast as she used to be, he   
thought, not as fluid. It has been a while since she last fought.  
  
Roland winced as Renamon took a bad hit. She was down, the Agumon was high in   
the air, it was going to land on her!  
  
Renamon's instinct took over. She leaped up to meet the digimon, grabbed him.   
She spun face-down and let go to send the Agumon tumbling head first into the   
ground.  
  
"DIAMOND STORM!"  
  
High speed shards of crystal slammed into the ground, kicking up a prodigious   
dirt cloud. A claw reached out and tapped the ground once, twice.  
  
Polite applause congratulated Renamon as she landed gracefully. The crowd   
began to break up and head back underground. The jumbo-sized Agumon stood up   
unsteadily and gave Renamon a toothy smile and a thumbs-up before some smaller   
friends rushed up and helped him teeter unsteadily to the door.  
  
"Come," said the elder, "You and Renamon must lunch with me."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
They sat in wooden chairs at an ornate wooden table underground. Quiet servants   
brought in platters of fruit of all kinds, bread, honey, and some sort of light   
poultry.  
  
"How are things, elder?" asked Roland as he placed food on his wooden plate.  
  
The old digimon sighed. "Things. As I said, I grow old. I must be the only   
digimon left who remembers the time when Enemy first became a threat. I am so   
low on energy, I can hardly stand, now. Ah, to be young again, and lead my   
tribe by example as well as words." He smiled wistfully for times past. "But   
enough of my complaining. Tell me what brings you to this desolate place."  
  
Roland exchanged glances with Renamon. She said, "One of the Tamers has been   
kidnapped. We think it may have been a digimon who did it, so we came here to   
look for her."  
  
The Agumon's ancient face took a grave look. "I see. That is not good news.   
How may we help?"  
  
Roland said, "We need information. We need news of anything odd that goes on,   
anything unusual. She may have been kidnapped by someone who wants power,   
like the secret to digivolution. If so, he or she probably has some kind of   
organization to help."  
  
The elder chewed thoughtfully on a piece of fruit. "I heard a rumor a few months   
ago that a tower was under construction. To the east."  
  
"Thank you. We'll look there."  
  
For quite some time, everyone was too busy eating to speak, then Renamon said,   
"What would you have done if I lost?"  
  
The elder looked up from his meat with a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing. The   
Council insisted on that silly ritual for no one knows what reason, but every   
time a stranger comes by, they insist on it. The young folk do enjoy the fight,   
though. Yours was particularly spectacular, by the way. It's only the second   
time he lost to a rookie."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
Some time later, they were shown to a pair of rooms where they could spend the   
night, if they wished. The pair of escorts bowed politely, then rushed off to   
whatever Agumon do before bedtime.  
  
"You've been much quieter than normal this evening," said Roland, "What's   
wrong?"  
  
Renamon looked down at her feet. "I almost lost that fight. It was against a   
mere rookie, and I almost lost it."  
  
"Hey, don't feel bad; he beat plenty of champions. I heard some of the younger   
Agumon talking about it."  
  
Renamon shook her head. "That doesn't matter. It took a Dokugumon to beat me,   
a year and a half ago. My skills are rusty now."  
  
Roland's brow furrowed. "I see. What good are you going to be to Rika if you   
can't even beat a rookie, even a strong rookie."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"In that case, maybe we should use tomorrow to sharpen those rusted skills,   
So you can help Rika when we find her. We'll set out at first light and find   
the first good spot, then start training."  
  
Renamon nodded and opened the door to her room. 


	4. Captive

"Let me go, you freak!" cried Rika as she clawed desperately at the green arm   
holding her. The nasty Ogremon grinned as he carried her through the damp stone   
corridor. After a moment she tried kicking at him instead. The Ogremon rearranged   
his grip to keep her from hitting anything vulnerable and kept grinning.  
  
"Hey, you're gonna get in trouble!" came a high-pitched voice from behind them,   
accompanied by vigorous wing flapping. A DemiDevimon flew up to block Ogremon's   
path. "You're too slow!"  
  
"She's struggling," said Ogremon, "I can't help it."  
  
"Hah, Master doesn't care. He's gonna strangle you." taunted DemiDevimon.  
  
Ogremon shifted Rika over to one arm and pinned the stupid little bat to the   
wall with the other.  
  
"I'm gonna strangle you, DemiDevi- ARGH!"  
  
Rika had bitten Ogremon's hand and dropped to the ground.  
  
"Oh, no you don't!"  
  
Ogremon scooped Rika back up with one beefy hand and waved a spiky club with   
the other.  
  
"If you try anything like that again," he threatened, "I'll bash your head in.   
I don't care what the Master does!"  
  
He flung Rika over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and hurried down the   
cold corridors.  
  
"Ya better run, pokey, or Master's gonna strangle ya!"  
  
Demidevimon grinned and flapped off to to the kitchens to annoy the cooks.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
After what felt like hours, Rika quit struggling and just hung limp over   
Ogremon's shoulder in hope that he would shift her to a more comfortable   
position. No such luck. She bounced up and down with every step through endless   
stairs and infinite corridors, all accompanied by the monotonous cadence of   
Ogremon's thudding footsteps. Somewhere along the way, she drifted off to   
sleep.  
  
Finally, Ogremon reached the end. He knelt before his master and lay Rika on   
the stone in front of him.  
  
"This is the girl?" A deep, black, cold-as-stone voice reached out and ran an   
icy claw down Ogremon's spine.  
  
"Yes, lord," said Ogremon.  
  
"She is unusually still," came the voice again.  
  
"Yes, lord. She fell asleep as I carried her."  
  
"Wake her, then. She had better not have any injuries."  
  
"Yes, lord."  
  
Ogremon reached out with his spiked club and prodded her in the ribs several   
times. Rika groaned, rolled over, and got to hands and knees, blinking.  
  
Rika stood and looked about. She stood on a wide black floor in a huge black   
throne room. The black ceiling arched up to a black point, braced by ebony   
rafters. Light streamed in through wide, arched windows on the side walls only   
to be sucked greedily into any surface it touched.  
  
"My palace is wonderful, isn't it?"  
  
Rika froze. The voice made her entire body go chill.  
  
"Look out the window. Gaze on a mere portion of what will soon be mine."  
  
Rika stepped up to the nearest of the large arched windows and looked out. Her   
jaw dropped in awe; before her the ground seemed as if it had dropped a thousand   
feet. She had never been this high before, ever, even in a skyscraper. It felt   
like she could see half the digiworld from here.  
  
"Impressive, no?" It was the kind of question that needed no answer. "This is   
the highest tower that has ever been built, in either the real world or the   
digital world. It will serve as my seat of power when I have finally conquered   
them."  
  
Sweat rolled down Rika's face. This was like something from the Digimon TV   
show. Of course, she thought, this isn't real. I'm home in my own bed asleep.   
It's probably something I ate. Then why did it feel so real?  
  
"It's only a dream," she whispered to herself, "It's only a dream."  
  
Something in the darkness grinned wickedly. "Is it now? Look at me, Rika, and   
tell me if it's only a dream."  
  
Rika took a deep breath and turned to what would no doubt be a giant bunny   
rabbit. It wasn't  
  
"I'm not a just dream, am I?" No, he wasn't just a dream. "I'm not a mere   
childhood phobia, do you think?" No, he was all of them at once. "You see,   
Rika, I am not like you humans. If you want someone to be afraid of you, you   
show him you're dangerous, by bullying, by showing off big muscles, by spreading   
rumors.  
  
"I do not. I shroud myself in darkness. You'll never know just what I am, will   
you?  
  
"I could be the bogeyman, come to steal your soul. I could be a tremendous   
fall that would make you go splat on some spikes. I could be an evil clown   
who will kill you and make a marrionette with your body. I could be all of   
these."  
  
With each word, amorphous fears crawled up from the dark underbelly of her   
unconscious mind. But how silly, she thought briefly, clowns aren't scary, and   
neither is any of that other stuff.  
  
Ah, answered another part of her, yes, they are, on a dark rainy night and   
they're all around you with those laughs and those grotesque faces leering   
down at you.  
  
"Now, then, Rika, let me show you something. Ogremon, come here." A terribly   
long arm reached out of the darkness and beckoned with a clawed finger.  
  
Ogremon went the pale green color of a booger and looked like nothing more   
than a cringing puppy dog expecting a beating from a cruel master.  
  
When Ogremon stood before the pitch blackness of his evil master's throne,   
two dark hands placed themselves on Ogremon's shoulder.  
  
"You were very bad, Ogremon."  
  
"Yes, Lord."  
  
"You brought her late."  
  
"She struggled, Lord."  
  
"Too bad."  
  
Ogremon screamed. Rika fainted. 


	5. Training

Renamon tried, she really did, but she couldn't seem to hit anything but air.   
No matter what she tried, Roland managed to twist his body away or deflect the   
attack with a pair of fingers.  
  
Roland slid around behind her. Just half a moment too slow, she swung her leg   
in a reverse crescent kick, but before it connected, he gave her a slight push.  
  
Renamon got back up slowly and brushed dirt from her yellow fur.  
  
"What am I doing wrong?" she asked, "I've been trying for hours and I can't   
even touch you."  
  
Roland sighed. "Sit down. Let me tell you what my father told me."  
  
They sat and Roland began. "For thousands of years, man has been refining the   
arts of fighting. Self defense has been necessary from the time that the first   
greedy man tried to kill his neighbor.  
  
"The fighting arts were first organized that we know about three thousand years   
ago, in the Greek Pankration and the Chinese Shaolin temples. They were taught   
for self defense, for attacking an enemy, for giving people a good show, for   
many reasons.  
  
"Today, the reasons have not changed, but the Oriental arts have shown   
themselves to be the most effective. There is a reason for this.  
  
"The philosophies that gave birth to these arts all have a common thread: if   
you train constantly, persistently, and correctly, then the moment your enter   
a fight, you will not have to think, just react. You will enter a state of   
clear minded-ness that does not rely on thoughts or emotions. It is known by   
many names: no-mind, Zen, the zone, the tree without a shadow. If   
you are going to gain back your skill, you are going to have to find it again."  
  
Renamon nodded. "I think I know what you're talking about. When I fought the   
digimon that bio-emerged a year ago, it felt as if my actions flowed out of   
me. I'm not sure how to get that back."  
  
Roland thought for a moment. "Stand up," he said.  
  
Renamon stood up.  
  
"There, you see?"  
  
"See what?"  
  
"When you stood up, you had it. You didn't think about how to do it, you just   
did it."  
  
Renamon was perplexed and astonished at the same time. "You mean, that's all?"  
  
Roland grinned. "To paraphrase a popular American shoe company, 'Just do it.'"  
  
Roland stood for a moment watching Renamon. He casually flicked out his fist,   
and Renamon caught it before she had a chance to think about it.  
  
Roland's grin grew further. His other palm arced in a circle to strike her   
chest, she blocked. He jabbed his fingers at her throat, she ducked away. He   
kicked, she evaded. Renamon had an invisible bubble around her that couldn't   
be penetrated, until SMACK! she whirled and struck with a spinning crescent.  
  
Roland rubbed the painful side of his head while he rose. He bared his fangs   
playfully and swished his silver tail.  
  
"Nicely done. Now, then, let me show you something I've been working on:   
Okamijutsu, the art of the wolf."  
  
Roland went into a crouch, his arms up and bent to a guard and ward off position,   
his legs tensed to leap or rooll.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Roland's gaze followed the hypnotic beams of hot pink light as they arced   
through the sable night sky. He sat atop one of the wide sandstone columns   
common to the digital world. A few feet away, Renamon suppressed a groan of   
pain.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Renamon looked chagrined that he had detected her pain. "It's nothing. Just a   
shoulder cramp."  
  
"Let me see it."  
  
Roland stepped around to take a look at her left shoulder and felt it. Under   
velvet fur the muscle was hard and tense. Roland frowned, then dug his fingers   
into it.  
  
"What are-" started Renamon, then, "ohhh. . ."  
  
After about a half-second of pain, warm liquid gold flooded her shoulder.   
Roland worked his fingers up to her neck, then across to the other side. Oooh,   
she had never felt anything this good before. She had not been this relaxed   
in a long time.  
  
"Where did you learn that?" she asked as he took his hands away.  
  
Roland grinned. "My father taught me. He ran a martial arts dojo. His training   
included ways to wind down from an intense session."  
  
For a while they just sat watching the dark night sky, wishing there were   
stars.  
  
Renamon looked at his grey, wolfish face. She had never met anyone like Roland  
before. He gave without thought of payment, when given a gift he accepted it   
with the utmost thanks, and he even held the door open for the people behind   
him. Even so, she smiled slightly, even for all his compassion, he was nearly   
the most dangerous warrior she had ever met, and he was certainly the most   
effective. On top of all that, though, he had an aura of. . . something. With   
all the time she'd known Roland, she was still surprised at what he did.  
  
She realized he saw her staring.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," she said and quickly looked away to the ground. Renamon promptly   
cursed herself for a fool. She was behaving like Takato did around Je- She   
canceled the thought before it finished.  
  
Blushing slightly, she looked back up at him. He was trying to say something   
but was having trouble doing it.  
  
"Renamon," he said at last, "You look lovely with the moonlight on your fur   
that." He instantly cursed himself for a fool. There wasn't any moonlight;   
there wasn't any moon! He blushed a bit under his fur.  
  
Renamon blushed deeper. "Thank you," she said uncharacteristically shyly.  
  
After about a second Renamon decided that she was acting too much like a nervous  
Takato and decided to "just do it."  
  
She leaned up and kissed Roland. 


	6. Rescue

Henry sighed. It had been a week. An entire week had passed since Rika had   
been kidnapped. School was an indistinct blur in his memory. Everyone was on   
edge. Even sushi had become completely tasteless.  
  
Henry flopped onto his bed. At least he was handling things better than Takato,   
who had bit his nails until the tips of his fingers bled.  
  
"Stay away from that, Terriermon," he said automatically, "It's a science   
project."  
  
Something large and heavy fell to the ground, followed by something glass   
with a some sort of liquid inside.  
  
"Terriermon! I told you to stay away. . ."  
  
Terriermon was sitting stunned in a chaotic pile of glass shards and a nasty   
green mush. He was staring up at something.  
  
"Henry," the small digimon said slowly, "I think I found Rika."  
  
Henry looked up. He felt a sudden jolt of emotion. Rika's violet eyes stared   
in from his window.  
  
* * *  
  
Henry's mother placed a piping hot cup of tea on the table in front of Rika.   
  
"Thank you," she said and picked it up.  
  
Henry took a sip of his own tea and asked, "So there you were in a dungeon   
with no way out. What happened next?"  
  
"Well," she said, "A few days later, a voice whispered through a crack in the   
wall to get away from it. It was Ryo. He and Megadramon destroyed the wall and   
flew me away before they could follow."  
  
She paused to take another sip of tea.  
  
"They still have my digivice, though. Roland and Renamon are trying to get it   
back right now." 


End file.
